


That Warm Feeling

by vexmybones



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Times really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexmybones/pseuds/vexmybones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Christmases, plus one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Warm Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> For my Natalia.

 

 

i. 

 

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. But instead of nestled snug in their beds with visions of sugar plums dancing through their heads, two little boys had snuck down the stairs. But it wasn’t to catch sight of Ole Saint Nick, or to shake the few meager presents under the small tree. Little Stevie had wanted to watch the lights and say a prayer for his ma who was working through the holiday night. So Bucky had waited until the house was quiet and nudged Steve awake, making sure his pal was wrapped tight in the blanket they’d been sharing, and herded him downstairs.

“Sure is fancy, Buck. I can’t wait for ma to see it tomorrow.” Steve’s whisper was warm against the fabric of Bucky’s shirt where his head rested on the other boy’s shoulder. Steve wouldn’t take no for an answer when Bucky had told him to keep the blanket for himself, so they were bundled together on the couch this time, the floor too cold to arrange the cushions like normal.

“Nah, it’s nothin’ special, but I’m sure Miss. Sarah will like it just fine. She’s bringing her pie, right?” Steve rolled his eyes at his friend’s goofy grin and nodded.

“She made it night before last. Your ma was real nice to give her those apples.”

“We all get to eat ‘em, Stevie.”

“I know, m’ just saying.”

As the grandfather clock in the hall chimed out its midnight toll Bucky tightened his arm around Steve, snuggling in when the blonde yawned and elbowed him with a bony elbow. The little lights winked at them from the tree and the fire that had been left to burn down crackled and popped a soothing soundtrack with Steve’s breathing. This was their first Christmas together and Bucky had been sure to say a prayer too, one that lil Stevie would get better. He sure liked having him around.

“We should go back to bed, Bucky.”

“In a few minutes, I swear.”

“You shouldn’t swear. Ma says it’s bad.”

“Sorry, Stevie.”

“S’okay, I won’t tell.” Bucky nods as Steve’s weight settles into his side and he feels a hand pat at his chest, right over his heart. He doesn’t think about it, just catches Steve’s skinny fingers in his own and holds them there. He wonders why his heart flutters like that.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

“You too, Bucky.”

 

*

 

When Mrs. Barnes slips downstairs the next morning, awake before even her children, it’s to find two gangly limbed boys cuddled together under a single blanket. Her son’s drooling onto the couch arm where he’s slumped over, his arm held tightly around his little friend who’s sound asleep on James’ chest. Shaking her head with a small smile, she tugs the cover up a bit and tucks it in around them, bending down to place a kiss to each of their brows. Steve snuggles against Bucky and she quietly steps away to begin the meal for their Christmas day.

 

ii. 

 

It’s the first holiday without his ma and Steve aches with the loss. He’s polite and accepts Mrs. Barnes’ invitation for supper ‘cause he knows Bucky won’t let him stay home by himself with just soup. So he eats and smiles, though he’s pretty sure they all just pity him. Bucky gets loaded down with leftovers and Steve gets a new scarf from Becca. They both get hugs and make promises to come back after the snow storm that’s supposed to hit lets up.

He and Bucky walk back to their apartment in silence, Steve with a heavy heart and Bucky with a plan.

“Hey, pal, can you run this pie to Mrs. Turner’s?” Steve sighs and nods, glad that she’s just down the hall from them. He takes the dish from the stack Bucky’s holding and sets off to his task, giving her a somewhat genuine smile when she pats a hand to his cheek affectionately. He leaves with a plate of cookies and has to juggle them to get their door open. Stupid thing always stuck.

“She said to tell your ma she’d—“ Steve’s eyes widen at the sight of their tiny living room, the door closing with a thud behind him.

“Cookies? Wanna make hot chocolate to go with them?”

Steve’s gaze ticks from the tree and decorations that weren’t there when they left to his best friend. “How did you… Did you pay for all this?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Stevie. Just wanted to surprise ya, is all.”

“You wanted to… Are you serious?”

“It’s just a tree that was left behind and a few lights, not a big deal.” Bucky shifted his weight from foot to foot and shrugged. “I figured we could do like when we were little.”

“Oh…Well, it looks great. I mean… Yeah, I’m surprised.” Bucky’s face brightens with a grin and his shoulders slump in relief.

“Good, I’m… that’s great. Now go change and fix the pillows and I’ll make us some hot chocolate just like your ma taught me.”

Steve swallows thickly and nods, pressing the plate of cookies into Bucky’s hands before tugging his shoes off and glancing once more at the brightly lit misfit tree. He shakes his head as a small smile tugs at his lips. Bucky’s humming ‘Silent Night’ when Steve slips into their bedroom.

 

*

 

An hour later, half the cookies are gone, their mugs are empty, and just like that first time they’re huddled together under blankets and parked in front of the Christmas tree. Through the years Bucky had come to understand what that flutter in his heart had been. Although he had to hold his cards close to his chest, afraid to scare Steve off with too much, too telling, affection, he knew now. Steve was the most important person in his small world and he loved him something fierce. If asked, there was no way to explain it really, but if given the opportunity Bucky knows he could write stories about his best friend. (He already had.) While Steve liked to sketch and fiddle with charcoal, Bucky liked his journals. They knew the precise shade of Steve’s eyes, every callus that marred his artist’s fingers, and those journals he kept in his underwear drawer knew the depth of Bucky’s very heart.

It was those quite moments when he could indulge his selfish needs. Getting a tree they were gonna throw out at the lot, trading his handy talents to a neighbor so it’d be set up when they came home, the ten dollars he’d shelled out of his dancing money for the decorations? It was worth all the hassle. Having Steve tucked into his side, his pencil scratching across the paper as he captured the scene, his belly and his heart full, he’d do it a million more times just to see the blonde smile again.

He doesn’t mean to doze off and a sharp jab to his ribs makes him startle awake.

“Wha, huh?”

“It’s snowing.”

“Well, would you look at that…” Bucky shifts, noting that Steve’s laid his pencil and book aside and is curled in on himself now instead of against him. Freeing a hand from the tangle of blankets he tugs on Steve’s sleeve and gets his hand swatted away. “You cold?”

“No.”

“You wanna maybe come get me warm then?”

“You’re throwing out more heat than our heater, Buck.”

“Humor me, punk.”

With an exasperated sigh and a muttered ‘Such’a jerk.’ Steve maneuvers himself so he’s laid down in front of Bucky, his back tucked in nicely against his friend’s chest. Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s slight frame and settles in with a content hum. Just as he’s about to drift off, Steve nudges his foot with cold toes and Bucky mumbles quietly in question.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

His whispered ‘You too, Stevie.’ is breathed into blonde strands right before he falls asleep.

 

iii.

 

Steve isn’t used to this body, or the way people stare at him, or the nice clothes that he’s wearing. And he isn’t sure why he’s even out tonight when he’d rather be hiding in his room for the night and pouring over the few letters that have managed to reach him. He knows them by heart but the loose cursive still makes him smile.

“Why isn’t there a drink in your hand, Rogers?”

“I’m not particularly thirsty.”

“I doubt the alcohol would have any effect on you anyway. Your metabolism is too high now. Actually! –“

Steve tunes Howard out after that. He’s learned that the man could happily talk for hours about things that Steve had no clue about without taking a breath. He nods and ‘hms’ in all the appropriate spots and chuckles as Howard gestures with excitement. It’d been a strange year since he’d become ‘Captain America’, that was for sure. He’d met more people than he ever thought possible, shook more hands than he could count, and it was all very routine. Up until now that is.

It’s his first Christmas without Bucky. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t home sick. Sure, he’s glad he’s helping the best he can, considering Colonel Phillips didn’t think he was good enough for the front line, (he’s maybe a little bitter) but he’d give all his new strength just to be back in Brooklyn with Bucky in their tiny, cold apartment. But Bucky _was_ out on the front lines and so far away from Steve, and boy could he feel his absence.

He always knew he wasn’t like the other guys in his classes, didn’t want to dance with some dame or neck in the backseat of a car. Steve only had eyes for Bucky, and he knew it was dangerous, that growing _thing_ he couldn’t name for a long time, but he knew how to hide it. When he was sickly no one thought twice if Bucky was always close to him, an arm slung over his shoulders to keep him steady. They just said ‘Poor little Rogers won’t make it to twenty.’ But Bucky had scoffed at them and told him they didn’t know nothing.

Steve had always known that he loved Bucky Barnes.

“Hey, you alright? You’re looking kind of tired there, buddy.”

Blinking back into the conversation, Steve nods but excuses himself with a pat to Howard’s shoulder and a smile. Howard waves him off with a quirked brow and a promise to see him at the next show. Steve makes his escape thinking maybe he’s more tired than he’d initially thought.

Once he’s changed and settled in for the night he takes out his sketchbook and slips one of the three letters from the back and lies down to reread it. It’s not very long and mostly about the day to day life in his camp, but it’s the last line that makes Steve sigh. The ‘ _It’s snowing Stevie and I sure do miss your ma’s hot chocolate.’_ causes him to tear up just a little. Putting the letter safely back in its place, he rolls over and closes his eyes, his “Merry Christmas, Buck.” echoing in the quiet of the room. That night he goes to sleep cold.

 

*

 

Somewhere over in Europe, huddled around a campfire with men he’s only just beginning to know, Bucky stares up at the starless night sky. It’s freezing and the toe-curling whiskey they’d managed to find in an abandoned village has left a bad taste in his mouth and done nothing to warm him. He ignores the conversation around him that’s turned to some new icon in the states and closes his eyes letting his memories of old Christmases play back. Exhaling, he opens his eyes and watches his breath dance away and he can’t help but whisper in hopes that it’ll somehow reach his friend…

“Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

 

iv. 

 

“Barnes, you’re staring…again.”

“Oui, he certainly is.”

“Aw, leave him alone, he’s never seen a celebrity up close is all!”

“I’m not a celebrity, fellas. Come on.”

Steve rolled his eyes and ignored the way his cheeks were getting warm as he took a seat by Bucky’s spot. The Howling Commandos were gathered around a campfire and for all intents and purposes were smashed. Save for Steve and Bucky, although the latter was trying his damndest.

“Hey, Frenchie?”

“Oui le Sergent Barnes?”

“Sing us a tune?”

Dernier glances at Gabe sitting to his left and Steve watches them have a rapid-fire conversation in French before Gabe shrugs and Dernier nods. He leans back, his shoulder butted up against Bucky’s leg as what he assumes is ‘Silent Night’ in French begins. Everything seems to still around them as Jacques sings surprisingly well, Gabe eventually joining in. It’s mesmerizing, the way their voices thread together and Steve can hear others around the fire humming along, a steady harmony. Finding peace in the midst of war is a rare thing but Steve thinks that this is one for the books.

When the melody has drifted to a close and a sort of reverence has fallen around them, Steve’s breath hitches as he feels warm breath ghost across his jaw. Bucky’s whispered; “Merry Christmas, Stevie.” warms him in a way that the fire in front of them cannot. He turns to grin back at his battered friend and stills as they come nearly nose to nose. He meets Bucky’s gaze and it’s all he can do to remain still and not close the couple inches that separate their lips. Instead he replies as expected with a hushed; “You too, Bucky…”

A boisterous laugh jars them from the moment and Bucky jerks back and away from him. Steve’s heartbeat is loud in his head as Bucky begs off from the group and leaves them with nothing more than a pat to Steve’s shoulder. He tries to shrug it off, just glad that he was spending another year by his best guy’s side. They’d figure out whatever was between them later, right?

 

v. 

 

The music is loud and grates on his nerves. It’s too cheery and everything is too bright. Darcy is drunkenly wailing along with the noise (and an equally inebriated Barton) to the tune of what she promised was a Christmas classic. Steve is pretty sure ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ is not, in fact, a classic. Ten more minutes and he can politely take his leave.

“Cap, I know you can’t get soused but you’ve gotta try a little holiday cheer!” Steve frowns at the red concoction that Stark waves under his nose. It smells like someone dropped a piece of peppermint into a gallon of alcohol and dubbed it a holiday favorite.

“No thanks.”

“Aw, come on, even Bruce had one. He liked it!”

“Sure he does.” Steve doesn’t mention how he’s watched Dr. Banner sit down drink after drink that Stark has pushed off on him without taking so much as a sip.

“Well, you’re no fun!”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to apologize (for nothing) when Natasha saves him, stealing Tony away. Steve gives up and slips away unnoticed at ten till midnight. He thanks Jarvis when the AI wishes him well upon reaching his floor and sighs when the silence of his apartment meets him. Flipping on lights as he goes he avoids the twinkling ones in the corner on his way to the kitchen. He turns off the lights that seem to mock him after getting a drink and retreats to the safety of his bedroom.

Once in SHIELD sweats and under his covers, Steve reaches under his bed for the box of things Tony had only just released to him a week earlier. He’d called it a Christmas gift and when Steve had asked him where he’d gotten the contents Stark had mumbled something about his dad and made a quick exit. Saving it till Christmas had seemed like the thing to do. Opening the lid, he pulls out aged, folded and faded Captain America posters, stubs from his shows, and a single worn book. It’s worn and dirty and he’s nearly afraid to open it and disturb it but he’s more than a little curious now. If Stark’s father had found some reason to keep it, then it must be important; Howard had never been one to be sentimental. There’s no signature of who it belongs to but it only takes a second for him to notice the handwriting.

_‘Came home today and found him with another split lip and raw knuckles. I swear (sorry Ma Rogers) that he’s gonna be the death of me. Scared me pale is what he did. I keep telling him to mind his own business but that heart of his, however weak it may be, is stronger than Mr. Turner’s shine. I patched Stevie up, of course, but it’s harder every time not to try and kiss him better. I know he don’t feel thatta way, but sometimes I catch him staring at me when his pencil ain’t in his hand. Maybe I’ll tell him before…before I piss him off right good by telling him I was drafted. Doubt it. Might not even tell him that. No need to get him worked up. Hear him coming…Be so easy to just say- Hey Stevie, I love ya like nothing else, but he wouldn’t get it. Maybe soon…’_

Steve’s hands shake as he flips to the next entry, finds more of the same; pieces of their days, pieces of Bucky Steve only dreamed of. When he reaches the end it’s after two in the morning and he can’t control the tears that spill down his face. He knew Bucky loved him, but not like _that_. Steve had only thought it was him that stared a little too long, cuddled too close to call proper… Reading that it was reciprocated is a warmth that’s only drowned by the vastness of his loneliness.

That Christmas Steve falls asleep with tearstained cheeks and the phantom smell of a musty apartment and brighter days.

 

 

\+ i.

 

Bing Crosby’s ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ seeps into the room from invisible speakers and twines around Steve’s legs like a well loved pet, but that isn’t what’s making him smile. Nope. What makes his eyes bright and cheeks hurt from grinning is one Bucky Barnes, who mind you is currently swaying to said song with a matching grin. Oblivious to the other occupants, they’re chest to chest as Bucky waltzes them around the floor with Steve humming along in Bucky’s ear. The lights are dimmed, there’s a huge tree brightly lit by the wall of windows, and it’s snowing. Steve is in a such a state of bliss that not even HYDRA or Loki could ruin it.

That is until the song changes and a laughing Natasha and Barton spin past them, the archer plopping red and green reindeer antlers onto Bucky’s head. He steps back much to Steve’s disappointment and glances comically up at the offending addition to his outfit. (Steve has to admit that it does give the black v-neck, black blazer, and black jeans Bucky’s wearing just the right touch of cheer, though.) To his surprise Bucky simply shrugs and gives him a wink.

“Hey, Cap, Sarge, say Frosty!”

An ambush. He should have seen it coming as Bucky slings his left arm over his shoulders and spins them around where Darcy snaps a picture of them before running away. He knew he shouldn’t have given into her fluttery lashes and worn the hideous Christmas sweater she’d threw at him that morning. Bucky’s laughter in his ear is all that keeps him from chasing after the hellion.

“This song is kinda catchy isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely different…”

“Oh, I don’t know… I think the chick knows what she’s singing about.”

Steve turns into Bucky’s space and gives him a warm smile, the tail end of ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ sounding a lot better than it did the first time he’d heard it.

 

*

 

Skipping out of Stark’s party is easier, too, especially with a drunk assassin nuzzling into your neck and getting handsy. Jarvis takes them to their floor and their tree is already on and winking when they step inside. Judy Garland is singing ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ and Steve finds his hands full of happily tipsy Bucky. A kiss prompted by magically appearing mistletoe (damn you Natasha) turns heated and before he knows what’s happening Bucky has him pressed up against the wall. Clothes are shoved aside hastily, laughter turns to moans, and love is made.

It’s with hands that grip tightly, pressing promises into sweaty skin with fingertips afraid to lose. Mouths whispering blessings into each other’s lungs with every plea for more, harder. A lifetime of longing and pain is erased in those precious minutes. They’ve perfected it by now, this dance of forgiveness and absolution. It came to them like everything else; easy as breathing.

When it’s over and they’re both useless heaps of satisfaction lying on the floor (seriously, didn’t even make it fully into the living room this time) Steve glances over at Bucky and bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Steve just points at Bucky’s head and makes a halo motion which has him reaching up expecting to find his hair in a rat’s nest like usual. Instead his hand hits something else and he sighs as he tugs the antlers off. His glare could melt paint.

“You couldn’t have said something?”

“I honestly didn’t even notice them until just now. I promise, Buck.”

“You little shit. I’ll get you back for that one. You just wait.”

Steve can’t stop the laughter as it bubbles up, even when Bucky helps haul him to his feet and pulls him into their bedroom to get ready for bed. He’s still laughing a little while later when he sticks his cold toes against Bucky’s ankles making him curse. When he falls asleep listening to Bucky snore, it’s with a smile curling his lips.

 

_Christmas morning_ …

 

“Dammit, Bucky! I’m serious. What did you do with ‘em?!” Steve scowls down at his underwear drawer where Rudolph and Frosty smile up at him. His normal boxer-briefs have disappeared and been replaced by hideously cheesy holiday themed boxers instead. He knows just who to blame it on too. Clutching his towel at the hip he pads on damp soles into the kitchen where the guilty party is currently singing an off key rendition of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ at the stove.

Spinning around, Bucky takes in his appearance and smirks.

“Wha’sa matter, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you sweetheart me, Barnes.”

“Oooh, you know I like it when you get all Captain on me…”

“Come on, Bucky, what’d you do with my clothes?”

“I didn’t _do_ anything with them, although I think I saw Natasha leave with a bag this morning. Or maybe she dropped one off, I wasn’t really awake enough to tell.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns around marching back into the bedroom to pull on the festive underwear and immediately cover it up with sweats. Bucky would eventually return his things, he never could stand to see Steve uncomfortable for long. He was sure of it. An hour later finds them sprawled across their couch, the Christmas lights twinkling, and their bellies full. It’s familiar and new at the same time and Steve can’t help but to feel like he’s finally home.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I love you.”

It’s snowing in New York, they’re somehow both alive and together, and Steve is without a doubt that this is the best Christmas ever. When he looks at Bucky and leans in giving him a lingering kiss, it’s that warm feeling that wraps around his heart and squeezes that cements it. And he wonders if Bucky feels it too.

 

(He does.)

 

  _Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Whatever it is you celebrate (or don't) smile. =)


End file.
